


Let Her In

by Longdays



Series: Our Song of Ice and Fire [1]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-10
Updated: 2017-12-10
Packaged: 2019-02-12 20:32:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12967854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Longdays/pseuds/Longdays
Summary: After an emotional conversation when he woke up on a ship after the fight with the Night King that resulted in Viserion's death, and almost his own, Daenerys returns to his cabin, and Jon decides to let her in.





	Let Her In

**Author's Note:**

> This is the story I wanted to start Our Song of Ice and Fire with, but it worked as a stand alone, so here it is. Hope everyone enjoys it, light on the smut but heavy, HEAVY, on the feels.

If only the room would stop spinning. Jon had been staring up at the wooden rafters of his cabin since Daenerys had left. He had so many questions, but none of them had mattered when he opened his eyes and saw her sitting beside him on the bed. Her heartbreak was apparent, the calm and collected mask she tried to pull over herself did nothing to hide the anguish in her eyes. Jon’s voice had nearly failed him when he tried to tell her how sorry he was. Every word cut his dry throat like a thousand razor blades but he needed to thank her, praise her, and mourn with her.

He wasn’t at all surprised when she vowed to kill the Night King. The venom in her voice only hinted at the fierceness contained within the small frame of the Dragon Queen. His Queen. From now until his last day, she would be the Queen he served, without doubt or hesitation. Her thirst for vengeance hadn’t shocked him, but her sudden vulnerability when he swore his fealty did. Daenerys had actually questioned if she was deserving of it. Had she suddenly gone mad? She had proved her worthiness a thousand times over. Faced down a hundred thousand of the walking dead to save five fools trapped in that icy hell. Watched her dragon, no, her child, die from one blow of the Night King’s spear. Instead of flying off to faraway lands where her dragons would be safe, the winds were warm, and no one had ever heard of the Others, she was here. By his side. Clasping his hand as if it was her lifeline, when in fact she was his.

Daenerys had pulled him out of that water, even if she didn’t know it. Jon fought his way to the surface long after the freezing cold waters should have leached the life from his body. Did she get away in time? Was she safe from the spear the Night King had been preparing to launch at Drogon next? 'I have to see. I have to get back to her. Protect her. Fly, Dany. I have to see. She has to get away.' The thoughts had churned through his head as he struggled to pry the skeletal hands from his furs that were dragging him down to the depths of the lake, dragging him to his death.

Jon exhaled a deep breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. What had happened next? How could Uncle Benjen have appeared? Looking half a man and half an Other his uncle had saved him, hadn’t he? Jon had thought perhaps he wasn’t at the surface after all. Maybe this was a vision gifted to him by a dying mind, his body turning blue somewhere under the ice instead of climbing on a horse and riding away from the death and destruction now swarming Benjen.

Pulling a heavy hand across his face Jon felt the world tilt and swirl again when his eyes closed. He felt alive, but only in the worst ways. Pains and chills wracking his body that wouldn’t be felt by a dead man. Last time he died there had been nothing. 

Hearing a quick knock at the door Jon whipped his head to the left, hoping Daenerys had returned, and instantly regretted the sudden movement. 

“Your Grace,” Davos said as he entered and moved straight to the bed. “It’s good to see ya awake finally. Had a few of us worried you’d not wake up after all.” Davos was looking him up and down, not much to see bundled under all the furs but concerned nonetheless.

“I’m awake. Not sure how I’m alive, though” he tried to sound light hearted, but probably failing.

“Not quite sure myself. From what Ser Jorah and the others told me ya have no bloody right to be,” Davos told him, while pouring a cup full with water from a nearby pitcher. “Here, drink this, and I’ll tell ya what I know.”

Jon managed to sit up with the help of Davos’ arm linked under his armpit. His muscles screamed at every movement. The fingers of his left hand were cramped and curled, his right shoulder felt like it had been smashed by a giant wielding a warhammer, and he felt the tell tale sting of a long line of stitches on his calf as his leg slid up the sheets. 

He had to take a moment to catch his breath before he could reach for the offered cup. The cool water stung his mouth and throat terribly, but at the first sip Jon realized how desperately thirsty he was, downing the whole cup before taking another breath and handing the cup over to Davos for more.

Davos waited for Jon to finish his second cup and settle himself back against the pillows before he began,

“Last any of em had seen ya a bunch of wights were pulling you under the water. Not quite sure how you managed to get out of that, but hours later there you were, riding up to the gate at East Watch. You were more a block of ice than man at that point. We had a hell of a time getting you off the damned horse. Furs were frozen to the saddle, first time I’ve ever seen that, the Queen got to ya first and was trying to-”

“Did she get them all out? Tormund, Beric,” Jon interrupted. 

“She did. Jorah, as I said. Sandor Clegane and the dead son of a bitch, too. Got him in a box down below. The wight, not Clegane.”

Jon chuffed and almost smiled at the thought of someone trying to stuff the giant man who used to be called the Hound into a box on a boat.

“Where are they now?” Jon inquired. 

“Well, Beric Dondarrion decided to stay at East Watch with Tormund. They need every blade they can get, especially since some of Tormund’s men died in this little excursion,” Davos said softly. Jon simply nodded his head, saddened at the mentioned of the men who died as they fought alongside him. “Ser Jorah is, of course, here on the boat to serve his Queen. Clegane seems to have taken it upon himself to make sure the dead thing stays locked in the box until we get to King’s Landing, so he’s on board with us. Gendry came too. The boy has spent almost as much time in here waiting for you to wake up as Queen Daenerys.”

Jon was happy to hear all of it. But a sudden thought worried him.

“Does she know who he is? Gendry?”

“Aye. They spoke. Didn't seem to be much of an issue. She umm-,” Davos struggled with how to phrase what he was thinking, “well, the Queen has been rather focused on you, Your Grace, since we brought you on board yesterday. Wouldn’t eat, wouldn’t leave the room, wouldn’t sleep, not until Gendry swore upon pain of death that he would stay with you and alert her at once if you were waking up so she could go change and get some food in her this morning.”

Jon just nodded again, stopping himself from saying that he understood her need to act as such. He would have done the same. 

“Thank you, Ser Davos,” Jon replied after a moment. “For everything.”

“Of course, lad,” Davos responded with a smile. “Can't keep having Kings dyin’ on me. First Stannis, then you, then you again almost. I was starting to think I was bad luck”

Jon gave a little laugh as he saw Gendry coming through the door with a tray of something steaming, and some of the ship’s crewman carrying in a heavy copper tub behind him.

“What’s all this?” he questioned Davos, but it was Gendry who responded.

“Orders of the Queen. Gonna warm you up from the inside and the out,” Gendry looked down to the bowl of hot broth on the tray then jerked his head toward the tub that was placed at the foot of his bed.

“I’ll leave ya to it then,” Davos said as he rose from his seat to leave, “I’ll head topside and check on things. Captain thinks a storm is headed in and I’m inclined to agree. Shouldn’t be much more than a week til we reach Dragonstone if we avoid the worst of it. The current and winds are working with us headed south.”

That was good. The voyage up to East Watch had taken almost a month. They fought against winds coming from the North and rough seas the entire way. The less time spent on a boat the better in Jon’s opinion.

Gendry settled the tray on the small stand next to Jon’s bed and then left him to go help the stewards bringing hot water from the galley to fill the tub. Jon took the moments of privacy to use the chamber pot tucked under the bed. Such a small task left him alarmingly exhausted. The heaviness of his limbs and the stiffness of his muscles told him just how close to death he must have been if even swinging his legs off the side of the bed seemed such a monumental task. Hopefully the salty broth would bring back some of his strength, and a hot bath would ease some of the aches from his frozen joints.   
He was able to quickly down the small bowl Gendry had brought him, the warmth feeling far better than the water had. It wasn’t much, but anymore and he feared he would be sick. It had been days since he last had a real meal, back at East Watch before they crossed the wall. Too much too soon and his body would revolt.

Sleep must have claimed him for a short while, because next he knew Gendry was shaking his arm a bit and asking him if he could stand on his own.

“Come on, while the water is still hot. I’ll help you in. Last thing I need is you fallin’ and cracking your head. Pretty sure Davos and the Queen would take turns splittin mine open if I let you kill yourself right after you woke up,” Gendry joked as he held out a linen towel for Jon to cover his nakedness with. 

Jon wrapped the fabric around his lower half and was grateful that Gendry had the strength of an ox as he had to carry much of Jon’s weight the short walk to the tub. Gendry tucked his shoulder under Jon’s left armpit and half carried, half walked him to the tub after they realized his right shoulder was too injured to raise his arm enough to hook around Gendry’s back. He almost sobbed as he not too gracefully flopped into the low tub, not even bothering to remove the towel tucked around his waist. The warmth of the water pulled a long moan from somewhere deep within.

“All set then?” Gendry asked with his wide smile taking up much of his face. He wondered if Gendry was this happy all the time. He’d never seen someone equally eager to go on suicide missions as well as play nurse to another grown man.

“Yeah, I can take it from here I think. I’ll need help getting out again, though.” 

There was a cloth for washing hanging over the lip of the tub, and a bar of soap wrapped in paper sitting atop a pile of thick towels within arms reach on the bed. Someone must have washed him down as he slept, probably Davos, because he couldn’t see any of the dirt and grime he must have been covered in when he had returned, so he wasn’t too worried about how thoroughly he’d have to scrub. His hair was crunchy and didn’t smell too good, but that may have to be a problem left for another day. To wash it now would take too much energy that Jon didn’t have to spare. 

“Shout when you’re ready. I won’t be far,” Gendry looked back as he walked through the door. “Oh, pardon your Grace. Didn’t see you there.”

Jon turned his head toward the door to see Daenerys chuckle and reassure the boy who had nearly knocked her over as she came through the entrance.

“It’s quite alright, Gendry. I was just coming to see if our patient was behaving, I wasn’t sure if he’d let you help. He’s known to be a bit difficult when taking orders from others,” she winked at Gendry as she spoke. He could see a hint of red creeping up the back of the smith’s neck. 

“Yes, of course. I mean, no. No, he wasn’t being difficult. Not at all, your Grace. A pleasure to help him out, actually,” Gendry was stammering like a fool. Jon wasn’t surprised, he assumed she had that effect on most men she met.

“Well I thank you for it. If you’d allow me to pass perhaps?” she asked sweetly, her composure back in place after their painful conversation earlier. Jon noticed she had a basket in one hand and a wide pail in the other as Gendry stumbled through some more apologies departing the room but leaving the door open enough for him to hear if his help was needed. 

Jon watched as she put the basket next to his tub and the pail on the floor at the head of it. He was suddenly thankful he hadn’t removed the linen before he climbed in the tub. Being even this bare in front of her was uncomfortable.

“Uuummm, can I ask what you’re doing, your Grace?” he decided to question as she moved a stool from the corner of the room over to the tub, placing it somewhere behind his head, with his stiff neck he couldn’t turn enough to see for certain unless he moved his whole body. He decided against it as that might dislodge the fabric that was the only thing giving him some sense of decency at the moment.

“You don’t need to call me ‘your Grace’” she chided, sitting herself at the stool and suddenly coming within his line of sight a little behind him over his right shoulder. “At least not when we’re alone.”

He noticed she didn't have one of her usual high necked coats on over her riding pants. Indoors or out, she always seemed to be wearing the heavy coverings with her gleaming chain topped with three dragon heads. Now she wore only a soft looking cream colored tunic over her leather pants. She looked far less intimidating this way, more like the young woman she was and less like a fearsome fighter who sacked cities and destroyed armies. He watched as she pushed the sleeves up past her elbows and began reaching into her basket, pulling out bottles with different colored liquids. When she pulled the stopper from a bottle of purplish liquid and began pouring it into the water he realized she hadn’t actually answered his question.

“Right. So what is it you’re doing here, Daenerys?”

“Helping you wash your hair. You’ll feel like a new man afterwards, I’m sure,” she replied nonchalantly, her focus back on the basket by her feet, as if they were discussing the weather and not something as intimate as her bathing him. 

“Ah, here we are,” she exclaimed as she pulled out a small pitcher. “Lay back and put your head over the edge, please.”

Jon searched her face to see if this was some kind of jape. He hadn’t had someone wash his hair for him since he was little more than a toddler in the nursery at Winterfell. Now the rightful Queen of the Seven Kingdoms was going to scrub him like a washerwoman with the days laundry! Ha!

“There’s no need for that, Daenerys. Thank you, but I’ve managed to attend to my own hair for quite some time now,” he tried to stop himself from cracking a smile as he declined, this was really too absurd to put into words.

She said nothing for a moment and stared at him cooly instead. Such beautiful eyes she had. He’d found himself staring at them plenty of times in the past months, but they looked more enchanting every time. 

Her right eyebrow arched high towards her hairline as she took on a disapproving tone and assessed the man before her.

“Oh really? You’ll be able to do it yourself? Let’s see you raise this hand up past that shoulder,” she commanded him, tapping on the aforementioned hand lying along the rim of the tub and nodding to his battered and deeply bruised right shoulder. He closed his eyes, knowing as well as she that he wasn’t able to. “No? Well then, how about you unclench your left since you won’t be using your right.”

Jon sighed as he opened his eyes and looked from her to his left hand, which was not as cramped as when he had first woken up, but was still too stiff to move his fingers properly.

“You had wrapped the reins so well in that hand that even unconscious they never left your grip. Ser Davos had to cut through the leather to get you untangled from it,” she informed him, her tone much softer and less demanding. “I only want to help you, Jon. Please let me.”

He bit at his lip and stared at the deep cracks in the skin of his palm, no longer bleeding but still painful, remembering how he had fought to stay awake as his body froze atop the horse. Jon had known that if he fell asleep he might never wake-up, and the freezing air would have taken him from this earth just as surely as his enemies blades could. Eventually cold and exhaustion had overtaken him, but he lived nonetheless. 

Reminding himself that returning to Dany was the thought that had kept him upright in the saddle more than any other he nodded his head once in assent, tried to shove his insecurity out of the way, then eased his head back over the lip of the tub, closing his eyes as he descended.

He took in the scent of the oil she had poured into his water, the same flowery smell he could often detect when he was around her, but he had never recognized what flower it came from. Maybe a plant from Essos? Exotic and mysterious just like her? It would be fitting. There was a little thril to know his sheets would smell like her once he returned to them, though he wished it wasn’t just a bath leaving her mark on his skin. Stop being ridiculous, don’t take her kindness and mar it with some crass thoughts, he had to chastise himself.

Jon’s eyes snapped open when he felt her run her left hand through his hair as she poured warm water from the pitcher she had brought along in her basket with her right. The bucket she had carried was apparently meant to catch the runoff beneath his head. He wondered if this was how she had her hair washed, delicately and gracefully, as opposed to how he usually dunked his head below the water line to wet before soaping and again later to rinse. He could picture her rosy cheeked from the heat of the water, silvery hair cascading over the edge of the tub. Noticing how low the water had been filled to keep it from sloshing over the sides as the boat rocked he realized her breasts would be fully exposed, nipples hardened from the cool air.

Jon realized he’d been staring at her only when he registered the easy smile she was giving him as she repeated filling the pitcher from the tub and pouring it on his hair. Even when he turned his head to face back up at the ceiling he could still see the sway of her breasts beneath her thin shirt as she moved this way and that, reaching for water, or soap, or to shift his hair away from his face. He could feel the blood rush away from his face and straight towards his cock.

Get a fucking grip on yourself! He had to stop thinking about her bathing, or her wrapped in his sheets, or if her breasts would feel heavy in his hands. A quick glance down showed him the towel was still in place, thank the gods, but what was stirring down below wouldn’t be well hidden if he kept this up. Of all the muscles he needed to come back to life this was the wrong damned one, at the wrong damned time.

Jon cleared his throat and tried to find something innocuous to speak about as she lathered up his hair with a different sweet smelling liquid, this time a yellowish color in the bottle. What does one chat about when the woman they have been panting over in their dreams is washing their hair for them? He should have paid more attention when Lady Catelyn’s septa had tried to teach him etiquette as a boy, though he doubted this current scenario would have ever occurred to Septa Mordane.

“So you were introduced to Gendry?” he asked, thinking bringing up King Robert’s bastard son was a safer topic than most of the other thoughts bouncing around his head would be. “Properly introduced,” he clarified, trying to see what type of response the veiled question regarding Gendry’s sire would elicit.

“I did. He’s very kind,” she noted. Jon was glad to see no shadows darkened her face as she discussed the bastard boy of her enemies' blood. He hadn’t known Gendry long, but he liked the young man. Traveling towards the arms of death together could make a group of strangers feel like brothers rather easily. Dany continued, “he’s grown rather attached to you it seems. Fussed over you like a mother hen when they first got you on board. I had expected as much from Ser Davos, but even he relented when Gendry second guessed every order he gave regarding your care and left Gendry to see to you through the night.” 

Her hands hadn’t stopped moving through his hair as she spoke. Nails gently scraping against his scalp left him feeling like Ghost, who would lean into his touch whenever Jon found that sweet spot where he liked to be scratched behind the ear. Jon found himself wishing his hair was as long as Daenerys’, just so she would continue running her hands through to clean it for as long a time as possible.

Jon wondered why she was leaving herself out of this run down of his time spent asleep. Davos had said Daenerys spent more time than either his Hand or Gendry had by his side, but she didn’t want to tell him that herself. She was humble enough to wash his hair but too proud to admit she had kept watch over him? He should be more understanding he supposed, Jon didn’t like people to know his vulnerabilities, either. Could Daenerys' feelings for him leave her as disarmed as his for her?'

“I’m surprised he didn’t try to smother me. He followed me North, got attacked by a bunch of wights, then I ordered him to run miles and miles through the ice, by himself, to send word back to you.”

“He seems to have inherited Robert’s blind bravery, but not the inclination to assassinate monarchs while they sleep as Robert was so fond of trying to do to me,” Dany joked, the laughter in her voice drawing a smile Jon couldn’t stop onto his face. He continued to enjoy her dark humor, it was something he was used to having spent years with fighters trying to laugh in the face of horrors day in and day out.

“No, thankfully he didn’t.”

They fell into a comfortable silence as she finished washing and began rinsing once again. The sounds of her dipping the pitcher into the water and the feel of the water falling through his hair became a hypnotic combination, one then the other, over and over. Jon didn’t notice his eyes had shut until he heard her hushed request.

“Jon? Lift your head a little for me please”

He craned his head forward a bit, wincing as he felt the lip of the tub had been pushing uncomfortably into his neck.

“Sit up a bit more as well,” she requested, then thanked him as he complied. “Now lay back again.”

Leaning back again Jon found his head and neck pillowed by something soft, turning to his right he was surprised to see the tunic she wore was remarkably close to his face. The thin material was covering her breasts just a few inches above him, and her abdomen right next to his cheek. A small shift of her legs underneath his head made him realize she had moved forward on the stool enough for his head to lay in her lap.

His eyes shot up to find hers as his whole body tensed, and she laughed again as she smoothed her thumb across his brow.

“Do I have to command you to relax, Jon? I won’t bite. Now close your eyes and rest. I need to get the tangles out of this mess of hair you’ve got. Blood and muck and gods only know what else that was in that lake did not mix with your curls too well,” she said as she spread his hair across the towel covering her legs.

Jon hadn’t realized his whole body had tightened up so noticeably. He swallowed deeply, releasing the edges of the tub from the white knuckled grip he had on it, and tried his best to shutter his eyes and relax as she had instructed.

For the next few minutes the only noises heard in the cabin was her comb pulling gently through the knots in his hair, and his deep sighs from time to time. The combination of her gentle touch, the still warm water around him, her sweet smell, and the soft humming she had begun at some unknown point helped ease the tension that had been locked up in every one of his muscles. Jon’s eyes remained closed as she returned the comb to the basket, then lifted the ends of the towel beneath his head to wrap around and began patting away the extra moisture still in his locks. 

He didn’t want this feeling of weightlessness and peace to end, so when she returned the towel to its starting position and started running her fingers along his scalp and through his now clean and combed hair he didn’t move, open his eyes, or utter a word. Perhaps he could just let himself enjoy the feeling. He felt relaxed. Comforted. Such strange feelings to him. Had he ever felt secure in someone’s touch? Protected? Wandering thoughts poked through his consciousness. Is this how it felt when my brothers and sisters would run to their mother with a skinned knee or hurt feelings, scooped up in a hug and a kiss and a smile? Or when Lady Catelyn would sing Sansa to sleep after a night terror as a babe? Perhaps Sansa felt like this and was able to sleep soundly after. Maybe this is what Robb found in the arms of his bride. I hope so. I pray to every God there is that she brought him this type of peace at least once before he died. 

Her humming ceased but was replaced by a soft whisper,

“Jon?”

“Mmm?” 

“Why is it so hard for you to let someone take care of you?” she asked, her right hand moving to gently lay on his right shoulder, close to the curve of his neck to avoid the vicious looking bruise blooming across much of that arm, her left arm curled around the crown of his head in her lap and her hand cupping his jaw while her thumb stroked his cheek.

Eyelids opening slowly, Jon looked at her face so near to his. He tried to take it all in, the softness of her eyes, the way her bottom lip always seemed to pout a bit, her skin that looked softer than the finest of silks. He might not have the chance to search her face so closely again. How could he explain why it hurt so much that she cared? He was a warrior, he had been named King by his people, he wasn’t meant to be brought down by soft words and gentle touches. Would she balk if she knew that her caress cut through him sharper than any blade? 

He thought of the mother he had never known, the nursemaids who kept him clean and clothed as a child but who weren’t expected to hold him or love him as a part of their duties. He thought of the girl he had loved with fiery hair. Ygritte was many wondrous things, but being gentle and kind was not something her world had allowed her to be. She measured their love in fights and fucks, something that could never have sustained them until they were old and grey.

In the end Jon gathered his courage, breathed in deeply and answered the simplest, most honest way he could,

“Cause I’ve never had anyone who bothered to try.”

Daenerys’ lips thinned a bit, pressed tightly together as her expression took on a more somber appearance. Her eyes explored his face similar to how he had memorized hers a moment ago. When his vision began to blur with tears he shut his eyes again, not able to let her see him so raw.

Her thumb stopped stroking, but her hand didn’t move away. She inched a bit closer to his ear to whisper,

“Now you do, Jon. And I will.”

He didn’t dare to look at her or speak to her. Doing either now would be his ruin. All he could do was place his hand over hers along his jaw and turn his head to place his mouth against her palm. He held it there in a kiss for more than a few shuddered breaths. Hoping to convey what he couldn’t with words. As he regained his control he turned his face back towards the ceiling, a small squeeze to her hand as he swallowed over the lump in his throat while they both let go, to let her know he was okay. 

“I’ll tell Gendry to give you a few minutes before he comes back in to help you back to bed. We can’t have you freezing in the bath so soon after we got you thawed out,” she informed him, her voice back to it’s normal cadence as she gathered herself to go. Continuing on like he hadn’t just poured his emotions out all over her was a courtesy to him, she must have known. He could handle her quips and parry sarcastic jokes quite well. Deep talks and deeper feelings weren’t as easy. It was helpful, though, to know that she understood this about him and wouldn’t push past what he could bear.

“Thank you, Dany”

This time his shortened use of her name didn’t seem to bother her, she simply gave a small smile over her shoulder as she bid him goodnight and exited the room. 

Exhaling loudly Jon found himself staring at the rafters for the second time today, mind spinning after Daenerys Targaryen blew his world apart yet again, wondering what tomorrow would bring. He needed to gain his strength back before they met with Cersei, they needed to survive the meeting with Cersei, but maybe after that he would follow the road that lead to Daenerys’ heart. 

No, not maybe. He would. He would find a way to care for her the way he wanted to, the way she deserved. Jon had let her in, and he wasn’t going to allow himself to push her back out. No matter what.


End file.
